


St. Valentine

by TheTentacleCommander



Series: Just N/J Porn [5]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crack, Biting, Blood, Body Worship, Bruises, Come Eating, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Dark Crack, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Game: Resident Evil 3 Nemesis, Hair Kink, Hand & Finger Kink, Human/Monster Romance, Infected Characters, Licking, Lust, Marking, Monster Dick, Monster sex, Nemesis being a danger noodle in a thicc ass sack, Nemesis has a thing for Jill's teeth, Obsession, POV Monster, Parasites, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Predator/Prey, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Teeth, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacles, Terato, Teratopillia, Valentine's Day, headcanon biology, hinted at - Freeform, monster fucking, mostly - Freeform, really he has a thing for every part of Jill, really stretching it on the 'romance' part, thirsty Nemesis is Thirsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29437035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTentacleCommander/pseuds/TheTentacleCommander
Summary: You are my everything, my saint, the sole thing in this world that makes me good....Let me worship you.Care for you.Bleed you like the hungry worm I am.
Relationships: Nemesis-T Type/Jill Valentine, Nemesis/Jill Valentine
Series: Just N/J Porn [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1391782
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	St. Valentine

**St. Valentine**

I hold you tightly, softly as you breathe and make those sounds that entice me, the sounds you make only for me. I sniff along your throat, your flesh quivering and arching against my teeth. You do this and every time I can't help but show my longing, my hapless need for you with hungry teeth against your skin, my dripping saliva coating you. My offerings are meager but you are to be worshiped, just like this.

You are my everything, my saint, the sole thing in this world that makes me good.

Your eyelids flutter, slitting open to show the faint glimpses of blue; faded almost silver in color, your pupils are blown wide but staring intently at me.

Only me.

They widen as I mark your throat; a trail of moon-shaped marks against pale skin each with halos of red and black pattern on what you freely gave.

Let me worship you.

Care for you.

Bleed you like the hungry worm I am.

A few places are dotted with twin holes perfectly spaced in the moons; small wet tassels of red trail down from each. And you can only smile in that pained way as your lips curve just so; I can only pant as I feel a trail of thick excitement weep from the thick meat between my legs in response.

You have so much power over me.

I love to hate it.

You hate to love it.

It doesn't matter now, does it? It doesn't matter as I tilt those lips open, one thumb is all it takes for you to concede to me. One thumb that could carelessly press in and break such a perfectly made jaw, could crush in your lovely teeth to pulp - instead, I just look at them, peer at them before I with so much effort to not break them trail my tongue against your quivering lips. Your flesh sheen with the wetness of me and some of your red as my tongue drifts along your incisors, your molars, your flat and sharp teeth so soft in comparison to mine, but prized so much more.

Somewhere, you push back - as much as I allow - and my tongue is trapped in your mouth. Your growls, higher than mine but darker, needy, demanding tell me I stepped out of line, that I am to give to worship you for your sake, not mine. My arms surround your head, dwarfing you. Your hair, your very human hair spill out from the small clips and bands and other items you would use to pin it back. The white-blond carpet fans out along the sheets, a novel thing for one who has no ability to grow hair. I want to rip them out and see if your scalp bleeds from the loss, but I remove my maw from yours to sniff your long protrusions instead.

I want so many things but I am not to take but to give.

I am given the prize of how good you smell, your scent, your sweat, your fear, your blood, your lust, your _all_ , so purely 'Jill'. Your hands, so soft, so calming stroke along my arms, then down against my face. So soft, you bless me with their touch. Your hands are more steady than mine, assured, aware, touching with no hesitation along my face. I lift up and purr in contentment from the attention; I even lightly nip against one, showing care to my most perfect one made so by my own works.

_I want to defile you, oh so much._

Your hands slide down my face, down my chest teasingly dipping in the tears in my skin to slide to my hips. I can only twitch and buck before I still myself. That power you have again gets to me; frustrating and exciting it is. Hands I can snap like a twig, your small so small body not built for war but causing one by mere touch was starting a battle between my legs. Fingers gripped my balls and softly squeezed before trailing along my shaft, your fingers smearing the thick fluid I could not help but weep for you.

Was it wrong that I bucked into your hand? That I helplessly came into that soft palm, you barely having touched me? My alms are freely given to you, only you, my patron saint.

You brought your hand to your face, moving your fingers and allowing my thick seed to trail along and down your palm, to drip from between your fingers. And then, to almost console me, to tell me it was serviceable, you licked one come coated finger and smiled, predatory and full. As if a cloud had moved past them, your eyes looked at me with a clear, impure want, an imperfect grin tainted by lust and it took all my being to not stain the sheets.

_That would be wasteful as all of me belongs in you._

Soft hands pushed against me, my hips bucking as the sheets stuck slightly against me; in your own urgency, you tore them away letting your hand soil them with the stain of me, your hair fanning just so as if it blotted out the world to just contain us two. My back is on the bed and your body above mine.

And all was as it should be as you bless me, pressing down with practiced aim your slick coated lips parting welcoming me inside with vulgar familiarity. You, my once pure and unknowing saint grins down at me as you had many years ago in a broken into Chapel sinning with me even then

_Were you ever pure, Jill? I never knew such things till you blessed me._

And yet I was called 'the Devil' by worthless humans. My hands grip your hips hard, the painting of my own handprints forming on such corruptible skin. You did this to me, made me know what I am, _you broken saint_.

**Let me finish corrupting you.**

I pull you down, bottoming into your sinful vessel just as you like it. Giving and giving you the thing you wanted from me, a lowly worm turned Devil. I feel it, the building, boiling pressure rising in me, no the body I wield a living tool to your wants, to worship you properly. _I hate this, I want this, I need this, don't you?_ Poised to aim deep in you, you bounce with each pull, your soft body flexing and dripping with sweat. The fleshy parts of you jiggle with each completed meeting of you and me; I catch one breast in my maw and bite down leaving more marks on your increasingly marred skin. Your head tilts back just so in a response as your throat lets out a low snarl; another blessing given to me.

I let tendrils take the place of fingers along the globes of your ass; they press down in a firm grip. You respond and clench down just as hard. My tip pulses inside you as your slick trails between us; I can feel it dripping down past my balls down my thighs wanting badly to meet yours but this will suffice.

_Let me defile you till you see stars again and again._ Your excited hands grip mine, my saintly female snarling down towards me a face wearing the most primal expressions, the sounds of wet and flesh filling our space. I need to fill you, _need to show just how much I need you, worship you, have you_

**My defiled saint.**

I roar as I come, hot as I paint you from the inside, coiling and swimming with all that I am worshiping you in the only way I know how. Your hands grip mine as you slam down one more time against me, lips gaping open in a silent scream. Your body was made frail again as you shuddered against me, your core clamping down, your tight heat forcing me to stay.

_Why would I leave you?_ I get to give you evermore of myself, pulsing and pushing more of my offerings inside you. You take so much and I want you to take more. Your body collapses against mine, your halo of hair matted to your sweaty face. I delicately pull the strands away as you adjust to laying against me, your warm throne. You softly breathe in exhaustion; my frail saint needs to rest. That was okay,

**~we'll have you again and again~**

We lick upon your nape savoring the sheen of sweat that coated you. Your flesh responded as a part of us swam inside you, stroking our defiled saint softly, fondly from the inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Boy, this month has been a pain! So many things are going on and I decided to take the few moments I have to write creepy, morally dubious Tyrant/human porn.
> 
> Here's a Valentine's Day fic on the actual day (Happy Jill Valentine day, yall)! How does a predatory Tyrant enjoy such a day with his Valentine? Is this the creepiest love letter ever? All I know is this is a very filthy eroticaish time from the pov of a very 'dedicated' boi.
> 
> Their characterizations are taken from [TDS](https://archiveofourown.org/series/903000) AU.


End file.
